It's in the Water
by Nymbis
Summary: People change. Thank god. Tymmie and Cassandra, told through Karyl‘s point of view.


-1**It's in the Water**

**AN: **It's four in the morning, I can't sleep, so damnit, more Tymandra! (Batsu's phrase. I'm getting quite attached to it.) Set before the series. Holy crap, I'm using first person narrative! Haven't done that in _years_. Dropped a _Firefly _reference, see if you catch it? I tried to make it a lot more light hearted than my usual stuff. Hope it works out. This author's note clearly has a short attention span. Look, a bird!

_Summary: _People change. Thank god. Tymmie and Cassandra, told through Karyl's point of view.

I remember the first time the two had met. It wasn't pleasant. Tymmie had overstepped a few personal space boundaries and Cassandra had consequentially overstepped a few aggravated assault laws. End result? Tymmie sported a broken nose and two black eyes while Cassandra had taken to wearing multiple layers of clothing and carrying pepper spray on her keychain. Needless to say, Stanton was not impressed, and the pair had found themselves trading in mind manipulation lessons for mops and toilet brushes for a few months. I remember laughing as I 'accidentally' spilt beer on the floor and watched them clean it up.

Two relatively unstable people always produce completely unstable results.

And I was just the poor bastard who bared witness to their absolutely insane relationship.

OoO

I consider myself a tough guy. Don't laugh, because I could probably kill you with my brain if I tried hard enough. I don't scare easily. I've seen hell and it looked like an amusement park. Very little can inspire raw terror within me.

Cassandra, however, could always make me want to wet myself.

She was always on our asses, by 'our' I mean Tymmie and I- Murray and Kelly weren't around back then. She would nag, harp, bitch, and she generally just wasn't a fun person to be around. Cassandra was the overbearing sisterly figure I never needed or wanted. What made it worse was that we both knew she was only acting like the second coming of Stalin to get on Stanton's good side. Not that he had one. Cocky shit, I've always hated him.

Where was I? Oh yeah, Cassandra made me want to piss my pants.

Especially when she was angry at me, which was unfortunately often. I've learned about ninety percent of my swear words from her vulgar mouth, including some interesting threats I would have never considered. Example? She was particularly fond of saying something along the lines of 'Karyl! If you don't clean that _goddamn _bathroom I will _shred _your skin with _sandpaper coated in lemon juice._' She had one hell of an imagination, I'd give her that.

Anyways, what fascinated me is that Tymmie, who I swear to whatever god can hear _must _have been lobotomized as a child, found Cassandra's threats _funny._

This did not bode well for my personal safety.

I remember one particular instance, when Tymmie and I had totally trashed the living room after a late night party. Beer bottles, pizza boxes, unconscious girls, and other necessities for a boy's night out had been spread out over the once clean floor.

Needless to say, when Cassandra came home to discover our impromptu bachelor pad she was _pissed._ It was like the coming of the apocalypse, she had thrown out all of our trash- she had said trash rather condescendingly when she eyed the girls that had come home with us- of the window, and had woken me up with the most vicious right hook I've ever experienced, regeneration or no.

Still, I fared better than Tymmie. _Way _better than Tymmie.

Cassandra woke him up with a kick to the ribs- he was passed out on the floor- and proceeded to launch one of her infamous rants. Didn't we know Stanton would be home soon? Didn't we realize that this place was an absolute dump? Didn't we realize that the place being an absolute dump would ultimately result in being flayed alive? That sort of thing.

But then Tymmie said one of the most asinine comments I've ever heard. And trust me, I've heard my fair share.

'What's got your panties in a twist, Cassie? Is it your time of the month or something?' He had jeered, rubbing his side.

Big no-no. From the time I've lived with Cassandra, I've learned three very important things about surviving with the irate maroon haired girl. Number one, never, _ever _touch her unless she touches you first. Number two, 'Cassie' was an automatic qualifier for missing a few teeth. And number three, never assume that her bitchiness was only because she was a girl.

I almost felt bad for the loveable dumbass.

Cassandra was on top of him faster than a leopard seal on a baby penguin. Fists flew, swears were uttered, it wasn't nice. When the metaphorical smoke cleared, I risked a glance at the two, and was utterly horrified at what I saw.

Cassandra was now straddling Tymmie, who lay on his back, his face pretty much bashed in. She was leaning over him, breathing heavily and holding her fist poised in the air as if ready to hit him again. Tymmie was laughing his ass off, and I immediately deducted that my roomies for eternity were complete and utter psychos. Especially when Cassandra _smiled, _the mental image is something that sends shivers up my spine to this day. Then, she just got off, went to her room and bam! it was as if it had never even happed.

'The hell was that?' I recall blurting.

I remember Tymmie just raising an eyebrow at me, 'What was what?' He gave me a look, 'Don't be so damn weird, Karyl.'

What do you say to that?!

Eventually, I discovered that provoking Cassandra was one of Tymmie's horribly twisted methods flirting. And I thought _I _had problems. I guess the masochistic streak was something they had in common.

OoO

On some level, we all hated the man who was responsible for our lost hope. Cassandra deluded herself into thinking that her disgust was stemmed from some sort of infatuation, and I secretly badmouthed the guy- not when he was in the room, of course, Stanton could kick my ass in a heartbeat and I'm not afraid to admit it. However, neither of us despised Stanton as much as Tymmie.

Tymmie was always subtle about it too, in the way that he would hesitate before completing his orders, or the defiant glint that sometimes made its way into his eyes. There was so much pent up aggression that I was practically counting down seconds until _something_ exploded. It never came, Tymmie was just a constant ticking time bomb, constantly fueling up spite for the Immortal prince.

Cassandra wrote it off as Tymmie being jealous of Stanton's powers, but I would occasionally catch Tymmie looking at her, and I knew that wasn't all he was jealous about.

Tymmie wasn't immune to the looks Cassandra would throw at our mentor. He's a bright kid, could have been an astronaut or something if he wanted. He eventually figured it out- who wouldn't, after all the special one-on-one sessions Stanton had started giving her? The way the slightest of blushes would crawl up her face when he entered the room? Honestly, I didn't give a shit either way- Cassandra could screw whoever she wanted, if that's what they were even doing- but that crap affected Tymmie more strongly. That's when I began to consider that maybe, just maybe, my closest thing to a best friend was falling hard for someone who had already made the plunge with someone else. It was pitiful, really.

I foggily remember this one time when we decided to go out and get shitfaced, it's a hobby of mine, and Tymmie is always guilted into becoming my reluctant drinking partner. Long story short, after about six shots of bourbon _I'm _feeling a whole lot better but _he _is definitely not. Tymmie is not a happy drunk, therefore, he is not a fun drunk.

'Chicks suck,' He slurred, drinking his shot of tequila like a Victorian era gentleman nursing a cup of tea.

'Only if you ask nicely,' I responded back, because I'm very clever when I'm wasted.

Tymmie swayed on his bar stool, ignoring the crude comment, 'Blond guys aren't even that good looking,' He muttered sourly.

I blinked, 'Why are you checking out guys?' Did I mention I was clever when I was drunk?

He frowned, 'And what's up with that hair? It's always falling into his face, it's like dude get a haircut. You've got money.'

At this point, I was completely lost, so I settled for just listening and ordering another round.

'And she thinks he's all _refined_ because he's _European._' Tymmie continued to rant, 'You know who else is European?' He waved his fingers around like he was doing a mental count, but then they flailed, 'Like a _ton _of people.' He settled on, taking another sip, and falling silent.

Because I assumed that it was my turn to contribute, I said, 'I'm Czechoslovakian.'

'And those stupid scars she's got all over her now,' He rambled on, 'Who the hell does that? Dumb bitches who don't know what's good for them, that's who.'

'Do you want your shot?' I asked, before taking it anyway without waiting for the answer.

'And so what if he's good at reading minds? _I'm _good at reading minds,' To prove his point, Tymmie squinted at me, 'You're thinking about alcohol.'

My eyes widened, his abilities were truly uncanny. 'Damn.' I mumbled.

Tymmie nodded smugly, feeling like he'd just asserted himself as the winner in some comparison I couldn't quite see, 'I hate him.' He said darkly, his tone picking up a conviction that betrayed his lack of sobriety.

'Who?' I was a little slow on the uptake.

'Stanton.' He continued, downing the rest of his shot, 'He takes what isn't his.'

I was confused, I don't remember Stanton stealing any of my shit, but I just shrugged, 'Then just quit.'

Something seemed to light up his face then, like a drunken epiphany.

I didn't realize then that I had planted the seed that would later grow to become Tymmie's defection to _Infidus._

The next day, Tymmie stopped picking fights with Cassandra. I wasn't the only one who noticed the faint glimmer of disappointment in her eyes when she called him a moron and the only thing he did was walk away.

OoO

There was a rift between us now. Well, not really a rift, per se, but things weren't ever the same after Cassandra started her little hero worship of Stanton. Everyone thinks that Cassandra immediately fell for Stanton, but that wasn't the case. The shit was gradual, she didn't even realize she was infatuated until it was too late and she was etching his name permanently in her chest. I, for one, was terribly upset. Cassandra had a fantastic chest, and now when I snuck a peek I was always distracted by the letters. Way to ruin the fun for everyone. Anyways, Tymmie started to avoid her, she started to avoid him, and I was the unfortunate middle ground between them.

Things worked. Poorly, but they worked. I was friends with Tymmie. I was friends with Cassandra. But I was not friends with Tymmie and Cassandra, if that makes any sense. Stanton didn't seem to care that his subordinates' infrastructure was going under, probably too preoccupied doing ultra cool shit we were never allowed to do.

Ultra cool shit eventually included seeing a Daughter of the Moon.

It's easy to picture the night where we all figured it out. Yvonne's Cold Fire ceremony. Cassandra was all fancied up, Tymmie wore a tux, and I had actually showered. Good times, until some little girl with an equally nice chest crashed the party. None of us missed the way Stanton eyeballed the telepath, but Tymmie and I shared a knowing look. We would pretend we didn't notice, for Cassandra's sake.

I'm such a nice guy, I don't get nearly the credit I deserve.

Cassandra knew though, we all knew she knew. And things got worse, when Stanton began to leave her behind. She became especially moody then, the beatings a bit more enthused than usual, and she was trying so damned hard to impress Stanton that I felt a bit sorry for her, honestly. She wasn't the golden girl, the _only _girl, anymore, and it looked like the competition wasn't going away anytime soon.

It got to the point where Stanton wouldn't even look at her.

Tymmie obviously had mixed feelings about this. I saw the hint of satisfaction on his face when Cassandra got turned down by her blond god, but I also saw the pure contempt in his eyes when Stanton addressed him. Cassandra was feeling even more alienated now, I could tell.

And I felt bad for her. Honestly, I did.

Which was why I decided to help her with her totally batshit stupid plan to get Stanton to pay some attention to her again. A plan involving the manipulation of the precognitive goddess who had her boyfriend killed in enemy gang territory. She was desperate, and I was sympathetic. Unlike Tymmie, who swore he would have no part in it. The thick headed bastard was so stubborn sometimes. We snagged a new Initiate, a total babe named Morgan, to play the part of deceiving angel and the half-cocked scheme was set in motion.

I'm sure you all know how that turned out.

OoO

Cassandra was gone. Stanton was promoted. I was on probation. And there was nothing left of anything anymore. I suppose in hindsight, I can see why Tymmie might have wanted to leave so badly. Hell, a part of me wanted to pack up and set sail.

But it didn't change the fact that it still hurt when he decided to go Lambert's route. It felt like betrayal, honestly. And what's even worse is that the douche didn't even feel it necessary to consider certain Follower's opinions. He just left, no goodbyes, no explanation. It was a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach, and his absence left a noticeable void- Murray totally sucked as a drinking partner.

With Stanton's chapter of Initiates effectively dissolved, I was shipped off to Venice Beach to serve under Yvonne. Slap in the face, that was. Yvonne was a total hottie, and a total bitch. It was a double-edged sword. I found myself quickly missing the old days, where Cassandra would only punch me if she caught me oggling her ass, instead of making me serve as a temporary target for the Regulators-in-training like Yvonne did.

I saw her sometimes, not nearly enough though. Despite the fact that Followers thrive on manipulation, deceit and power plays, there was an unmistakable bond that had been formed between the three of us- twenty years of sleeping on the same floor will do that to a person. She seemed alright, a little sad, a lot pissed, especially after the Lambert fiasco. She asked me what Tymmie was up to, and I found myself unable to provide an answer. She apologized for getting me probation, something that was a testament to how being on your own can humble you.

It wasn't the same, though. I missed the bastard.

She missed him too. I could tell, because after a while, she stopped talking about Stanton and only wanted to talk about Tymmie. Granted, every time his name was mentioned it was surrounded by swear words and insults, but in the end it was still brought up, and that's what matters.

After a while, I found myself shirking my duties under Yvonne's chapter, the ambition aspect of being a Follower was never something I was interested in, to spend time with my favorite harpy. Sometimes she wanted to plan her glorious return to the Atrox, most times she just wanted to talk. Talking was fine, but her fists provided most of the conversation. What can I say, I appreciate the human body.

Setting herself apart from Stanton was changing her, I could tell by the way she grew and matured. A year went by, and I noticed that none of her carefully laid out schemes to regain Follower abilities ever went into execution. I also noticed that she never went out on dates. Since she wasn't interested in me- she made that clear after breaking my fingers because I attempted to pinch her butt one day- and the name Stanton was now taboo, I used my superior intellect and made the rational deduction.

I wonder how Tymmie would feel, when he discovered that his time hiding away from reality didn't need to be for so long.

OoO

The next time they met wasn't exactly pleasant. Downright nasty, actually, and a complete accident. My point is, it wasn't anything romantic. I think Cassandra actually spit in his face.

We had decided to go out clubbing at The Dungeon. My desire for hope had begun to outdo my rationality, and Cassandra wanted to catch up with the old crowd. We were not expecting to see our favorite _Infidi _Follower in the crowd.

It was awkward, to say the least.

It had been five years since we had last seen him, and he looked completely different. His head was shaved, his frame was thinner, his face glistened like tinfoil from all the shit he had pierced. But it was Tymmie, you can't mistake that bastard.

Worse? He wasn't alone.

I remember trying to preoccupy Cassandra from seeing Tymmie and some blonde little tart- who had a nice body, but it wasn't as good as Cassandra's, in my opinion- by spilling my drink on her shirt. I'm not exactly intelligent sometimes, as this resulted in her screaming at me loudly. I tried, really I did, to wipe it away without much boob action, but hey, I was in the area. Then, of course, she kneed me in the gut, which wasn't exactly comforting.

Teenage girls who are screaming at and beating down creepy looking dudes, yeah I admit it, tend to draw a crowd. Crowds tend to draw attention, and attention equals…well, you get it by now.

The look on his face, when he saw me with Cassandra, was almost completely worth the chaos that occurred after it. At first, it was the sort of squinty look people acquired when they couldn't quite believe what they were seeing- like if an elephant just happened by your apartment. You don't think you actually saw the elephant, but how the hell can you mistake an _elephant _for something else? Then, it morphed into absolute shock, like someone who stuck a fork in the toaster. And finally, I watched as he had the balls to walk over to where we were, but I was quite surprised to see anger on his tackle-box face.

I gave a cocky grin, 'Hey asswipe, long time no-'

And was promptly cut off by a fist to my chin. My head snapped back and I swear I saw stars dart across my vision.

'What the hell is your problem?!' Tymmie yelled at me.

I then realized that I still had a hand on Cassandra's chest from when I was attempting to clean up the spilt beer. This certainly didn't look good. Nursing my already healing jaw, I stared at Cassandra to see her reaction and I noticed that she had the same squinty-elephant look as Tymmie had a few moments ago. Great, she would be a lot of help.

'It's not what it looks like,' I said easily, before winking at the girl behind Tymmie's shoulder, 'Who's your friend?'

Tymmie just punched me again, this time in the nose. I heard it snap, and blood came trickling out of it. I swore, I had an absolute dickhead for a friend, I swear. Tymmie was about to rear back and hit me yet _again_, but I noticed with some relief that a feminine hand wrapped around his wrist.

Tymmie, startled, backed away quickly, and his eyes darted to Cassandra's, 'You're with him now?' He demanded angrily. The girl with him seemed rather complacent, looking at the scene with apathetic detachment. I decided to back the hell out of there, wiping away the dried blood on my chin as my nose straightened itself out.

Cassandra's eyes narrowed, her own features livid, 'If I was, I hardly see how it's any of your business.' She hissed between clenched teeth, 'Some people haven't been around.'

Tymmie glared at her with almost as much intensity, 'Some people were too busy screwing other men when I was around.'

The result was like a lightening bolt of pain. Cassandra's fist lashed out and she gave him a solid uppercut. Tymmie's head snapped back and I winced for him. That looked like it had hurt. His piercings made a little jingling noise, I noted with some satisfaction. Best friend, he may have been, but the ass had still broken my nose.

'How **dare **you?' She hissed, swinging another fist, it connected solidly, 'That's for being a complete bastard,' Another wallop, 'That's for joining up with the other complete bastard,' Yet another sock, 'And _that's _for thinking my standards were so low I'd date _Karyl._'

My jaw dropped as my eyes bugged out, 'That's a bit low, don't you think-?'

They both turned their heads and snapped at me, 'Shut **up **Karyl!'

Since they were both quite frightening, I wisely 'shut up'. Tymmie started to defend himself, ducking Cassandra's girly fists of fury, and throwing insults at her between the hits that actually connected. I sighed, a little relieved that all they were doing was trying to kill each other in a public establishment. Bored with watching them pummel each other, I turned to the girl that was also observing the show, the one that was with Tymmie.

I gave a smile to her, 'Hey there.' I said smoothly.

She looked up at me, 'Hi.'

'I'm Karyl,' I introduced, because I can network like you wouldn't believe, 'How do you know Tymmie?'

'I'm his Initiate,' She said blankly, and I felt a little less anxiety when I realized that her tone didn't hold the puppy love-esque quality Cassandra's had when she addressed our old mentor. There was a pause, before she asked, "Who's the girl?"

I grinned, "Oh, that's Cassandra. Tymmie loves her."

The girl's eyes widened, and at that time Cassandra took the opportunity to slam a glass beer bottle on Tymmie's head. "No shit?"

"No shit. Cassandra loves him too." This was interrupted by Cassandra tackling him to the ground with a wrestling maneuver that was downright impressive.

"They don't act like it," The girl commented wisely, as Tymmie grabbed Cassandra's wrists harshly and bent them back.

I shrugged, "It's foreplay."

OoO

The rest of their story kind of unravels into that shitty, normal, boyfriend-girlfriend Harlequin crap. They date, they probably have sex, they beat the shit out of each other, all that fun stuff. It's boring, and slightly disturbing, so I'll hope you forgive me for skipping it. It's been a few years now, and I'm sort of tired of thinking about it.

Now, I know you're probably wondering what exactly brought upon this sudden urge to reminisce.

I guess I'll tell you.

It's because I can't believe those two dipshits are going to get married.

Even worse, they want me as their best man.

Who the hell would want to be their best man? Now I've got to give a goddamned speech and wear a suit and all that pansy shit just so they can get wasted at their own reception.

Just when I think I'm out, they drag me back in with their claws.

Assholes.

**The End?**


End file.
